What does The Man in the High Castle have to do with generative AI?
At first glance, nothing. But I can’t stop thinking about the Japanese concepts of Wu and Wabi and how they echo in the work we create using AI versus what we make with our own hands.
AI and Philip K. Dick’s The Man in the High Castle may seem worlds apart, but the novel’s meditation on authenticity, especially through these two concepts, feels incredibly timely as we navigate the rise of generative technology.
Wu and Wabi: A Quick Primer
Wu is the spiritual essence an object seems to hold.
Wabi is the appreciation of quiet beauty, imperfection, and simplicity, often found in handmade or humble things.
If you’ve read The Man in the High Castle, you know it is not just alternate history. Beneath its surface lies a haunting reflection on cultural dominance and identity. One moment in particular sticks with me.
In Chapter 11, Robert Childan, an American antique dealer, gives a handmade pin created by American designers to a young Japanese bureaucrat, Paul Kasoura, for his wife. Paul is initially dismissive. The craftsmanship is crude by his standards. But over time, he finds himself drawn to the piece. Despite its flaws, he senses it holds Wu a kind of spirit. Not Wabi, he says, but still something meaningful.
Moved by this, Paul shows the pin to his friends and even suggests mass producing it as a good luck charm for people in poorer countries. At that moment, Childan realizes that is what Paul thinks of American art: it is fit to be replicated, exported, and consumed.
Later, Childan asks Paul for advice. Paul says he cannot enjoy anything mass produced. He seeks “something rare… something truly authentic.” But he adds that the same is not true for the “uneducated masses.” Childan wonders if Paul is drawing a line between what has Wu and what is merely consumable.
From Spiritual Resonance to Synthetic Production
This tension between spiritual resonance and replication feels eerily familiar in the age of AI. What happens to Wu when a machine creates a painting, a piece of music, or an essay?
In the West, we do not have a perfect match for Wu. The closest comparison might be the uncanny valley, when something nearly human feels off. It is not just unfamiliar; it is unsettling. Maybe the opposite of Wu is that sense of artificiality we get when we know something was generated, not created.
This is why AI art, at least for now, cannot replace human art. Not because it cannot imitate the form, but because it lacks the essence. The same goes for writing. Not all writing needs Wu, but the best of it does.
The Corporate Voice and the Echo of AI
For years, corporate language has lacked Wu. It is clean, strategic, cautious, and soulless. Only recently have companies begun breaking that mold, letting influencers or unfiltered social media accounts speak with passion and imperfection.
Will the same thing happen with AI writing? Will we redefine good writing as something AI cannot replicate? Or will human writing start to mimic AI instead?
Final Thought
In that future, which will become the dominant culture that decides what is beautiful, meaningful, and which will still carry Wu?